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by gaialux



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, Love Bites, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miguel's not so secure in his relationship with Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this a while back for the kink-bingo prompts of "bites/bruises" and "danger" I believe. Some internalised homophobia and some racist language.

When it starts, they're forced into empty supply closets or maybe -- _maybe_ \-- an empty corner of the kitchen after Ryan gets Miguel a short-lived job there.  
  
"Too dangerous," he says after two days, not meeting Miguel's eyes. "Everyone in there might be dumb as shit but they're not blind."  
  
So Miguel takes up work detail back into the infirmary after Dr. Nathan takes pity on him, and there's once or twice they manage a moment surrounded by vials of drugs (nothing good, nothing they can sell) and gauze wraps. All tongues and teeth and hands, Ryan slamming him up against the wall and making everything around them shake. So they have to leave, and Miguel cleans patients and changes sheets with an ache in his chest that he can't ever fill.  
  
They're not like Beecher and Keller -- he's not a _maricon_ \-- and they don't share a pod. Hardly even acknowledge each other since Keller sidled up, said O'Reily's been given Miguel _eyes_ throughout Miss Sally, then corners him in the showers and says if he likes sucking cock so much, why not get busy? Beecher came in, pulled Keller aside, and Miguel avoided Ryan for _days_ after that.  
  
Now they're settled, at least as settled as someone can be in Oz. Which means they're grappling onto each other with one thin thread and it'll snap any second. Miguel knows he'll have nothing again, it's just a matter of time.

 

\--

 

It's months of this, and mostly it hurts. Miguel stares at the roof of his cell and just waits. Sometimes he let's himself look over at Ryan's, but hates what he sees: Ryan watching, smiling, sometimes winking. He doesn't know why hates that so much, decides it has to do with what he can't have. Inside here, there's never anything good. Just pain and loneliness and he's so fucking tired.

There's still moments. Very, very rare moments where it's soft and slow and Miguel _likes_ Ryan's cocky grin that follows his body everywhere. It's during one of those slow, slow moments that Ryan's mouth touches against his neck and bites down.

Miguel skits away, back slamming into the solid concrete wall, and Ryan's looking at him, cocky grin still firmly plastered on his lips. He licks them, reaches out with one hand and Miguel tries to pull further away.

"Hey," Ryan says. "Let me."

"What?" Miguel tries to slow the pounding in his chest and is just about ready to run, every slight sound outside being someone that's going to find them, _kill them_. Ryan might be fucking insane and know Oz better than anyone else but even Miguel knows this is _so_ not okay.

"Miguel," Ryan says. There might even be some laughter in his voice and a huge part of Miguel wants to punch him for it. "Miguel. It's okay."

Miguel puts a hand to his neck, tries to find the bruise. Or the _bite marks_. That's all he needs, a fucking bite mark that El Norte will sniff out like Bloodhounds and kill him for. No chicks in Oz, none that are convincing when he isn't allowed to have visitors any more.

"What're they gonna do?" Ryan asks. He shifts closer and Miguel has no way to go further back. "Promise it'll be okay."

If there's one thing Miguel's learnt during his time in prison, it's  _don't trust anyone_. They'll turn on you sooner or later and make you regret even mouthing 'yes'. But he'd also learnt that being a fag came with its own risks. That Beecher might get away with it, but they're apples and oranges. Miguel's already been thrown under the bus --  _too white_  to fit in anywhere.

He breathes out hard and looks into Ryan's eyes again. "All right, baby," he says. "What you got planned?"

Ryan grins and leans in.

 

\--

 

Miguel thinks they probably do notice.

He's just decided not to care.

Morales eyes him the next day over his hand at poker and Miguel leans back on his chair. So he dies. Parole's a bust anyway, at least as far as he can see. Might as well go out with a bang --  _aprovecha el día_. He's done.

Keller sidles up to the table and throws himself onto the chair. He's contemplative, like always. At least that's all Miguel seems to see.

"They're obvious," he says, and slides two fingers down his own neck. It finishes with the motion of a gun against his Adam's apple. "But nice to know Em City's becoming our own Mardi Gras."

"What d'you want?" Miguel asks. Over Keller's shoulder he sees Ryan leaving his pod. He doesn't look over, but Miguel knows Ryan's aware of where he is. Like their own form of spatial awareness -- he learnt that in a book.

"Nothing really," Keller says. "Felt like doing my good deed for the day."

He raps his knuckles against the table and leaves, disappearing just like he always can. He's right, though -- as much as Miguel hates to admit it -- the gun, too.

Doesn't change anything.


End file.
